bulletproof (with everything to lose)
by ArmedWithMyComputer
Summary: Tag to Inclement Weather - takes place after episode end. An alternate way that the 100 escape from Mount Weather, through extreme adversity and the deepening of bonds. It's raw, bloody, and tough - but it's how they've always done things. "We are the 100," Clarke yelled, and several fists were pumped into the air in enthusiasm, "We are the 100!"
1. Chapter 1

She stumbled back through the vent, wiping any residual dust and grime off on one of the other patient's sheets, and closed the vent shaft with shaking hands.

Those people, trapped in cages like diseased animals – the instant but weary recognition in Anya's eyes. Clarke felt the urge to throw up violently, but she settled for only leaning against her infirmary bed—still half frozen in shock.

It was one of those moments when she wished that she could be wrong.

There was no mistaking what she'd seen though.

The door opened loudly then, and Clarke nearly jumped a foot in the air—her instinct the only thing keeping her sitting motionless on the bed. She looked up slowly, forcing herself to stare calming into the doctor's eyes, and cradled her arm as though it was in pain.

Clarke couldn't feel anything though, not even the long line of fresh stitches holding her forearm together – that she knew should be pulsating with pain by this stage.

"I—I think that I'd like to go back to my friends now," she said in a subdued voice, lowering her gaze and doing her best to look sheepish, "I realised what a mistake I'd made—I'm sorry."

_Play the role_, she chanted to herself, _play the role and survive_. Tears prickled at the edges of her eyes, and she allowed it—feeling the moisture well up and turn her vision blurry. Clarke bit her lip, and rubbed gently at her injured arm, wishing that she could feel something.

Somehow she was escorted back to their rooms, but when she thought back on it the memory was fuzzy. A hand around her waist, guiding her, and a series of corridors and key card points. Clarke was shaking, that much she remembered, but any finer details eluded her.

Eventually, she made it back to the rooms and was left alone for a few moments—to sit silently on a bottom bunk and tremble with the realisation of her discovery.

Jasper came rushing in after a few minutes, followed by the others, and he dropped to his knees and pulled her in for a hug. Clarke felt the sharpness of the bones in his back as she shakily wrapped her arms around him to reciprocate the gesture, and realised how thin he really was.

"We were worried when they said that you'd been taken to the infirmary," Monty said carefully, as he put a hand on her shoulder, and Clarke just blinked up at him, still dazed.

In the corner of the group, Miller stood still, watching her quietly with his arms crossed.

Clarke tucked her bandaged arm into her chest, suddenly acutely aware of how little she would be able to reveal in the current setting. Jasper's words from earlier echoed in her head, and the prospect of not being believed was fleeting but present all the same, making her hesitate—but only for a millisecond.

She ducked her head down to hide her lips from any potential cameras, and spoke softly, "I saw something in the infirmary—something… something horrific. This place… we aren't safe here. Not with what they've been keeping from us—the—"

The words clogged up her throat then, and Clarke found herself stopping suddenly, hunching over even more. She felt lightheaded, and the whole room had gone silent.

Jasper took a step away from her, almost unconsciously, and she looked up at him, "Jasper—"

"_No_. No, Clarke, _no_. You said—you said that you would try. We—we're safe here, we are—aren't we?" The tone of desperation in his voice didn't go unnoticed, and Clarke felt her heart ache with his distress, and obvious panic.

They all knew how much Jasper had struggled with PTSD after the spearing, and it was all too clear that he craved the apparent stability that Mount Weather had provided. The safe haven that he'd readily accepted was being torn down around him, and Clarke knew how hard it would be for him to cope.

In the same moment that Monty moved to stand beside his friend, Miller took a step forward and sat down on the bed beside her. He pulled her into a hug then, and hissed, "What are we dealing with here?"

She leaned into the embrace, and forced the words out, "A room with Grounders in cages, blood transfusions into bodies hanging upside down, its—" Clarke shuddered violently, and felt Miller's arms tighten slightly, "it's bad."

Around them, the others were shifting nervously on their feet, a murmur of discontent in the air.

Clarke looked up then, and took a few deep breaths. She reached for her sketch book, the gift from Wallace, and said lightly, "Here, let me show you the new sketch I was working on before I cut my arm." She smiled widely, and shrugged off her 'accident' with an apologetic move of her shoulders.

The rest of the 100 moved in around her, and some even scrambled up onto the top bunks, leaning their heads down to see the blank page—and effectively blocking any view of hidden cameras.

"Wow, Clarke, it's great," one of the girls gushed falsely, despite the fact that there was nothing on the page yet.

She nodded enthusiastically, and picked up a pencil—writing jagged words across the smooth page.

_SECRET ROOM OFF INFIRMARY – BLOOD TRANSFUSIONS FROM MOUNT WEATHER PEOPLE GOING INTO BODIES. GROUNDERS LOCKED UP IN CAGES TO DIE. BAD BAD THINGS—WE NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE. NO ONE PANIC – __ACT NORMAL __– WE CAN GET OUT OF HERE IF WE WORK TOGETHER_

They all tensed up upon reading the words, but stayed true to their characters, giving praise and sounding impressed with the 'drawing.' Clarke was proud, blown away by their ability to fake it when things mattered, and it almost put a genuine smile on her face.

"I'll show you a better drawing tonight," She said, a note of happiness and relief evident in her voice, "but for now, you guys go chill out. I'm fine, really."

With some more hugs and pats on the shoulder, the majority of the others left then—though they stuck tightly together in group as they bustled loudly out of the dorms. Jasper lingered for a moment, but his face was tight, expression pinched – and Clarke didn't know what she could say.

She reached a hand out to him, but he drew back, a hint of a frown on his face. "Don't get into any trouble out there," Clarke called out in a light tone, her voice almost sounding musical. The words tasted like ash in her mouth, because even though she meant them, her voice was all wrong.

Jasper only nodded in response, and disappeared out the door.

"He'll be okay," Miller said then, his voice low, "Jasper just needs time to process."

They both turned to one of the welcome maps they'd received then, the one without any exits, and proceeded to pour over it – while trying not to look too interested. Monty hovered over Clarke's shoulder, and chewed on his bottom lip silently.

.

He walked down one of the corridors that they had access to, one with the occasional painting hung up but with hard concrete floors and pipes lining the lower parts of the wall.

There was a flash of colour at the end of the hallway, and Jasper forced a smile onto his face—he only had one shot, and he had to get it right.

"Maya!" He shouted excitedly, waving his arm in enthusiasm until she saw him and returned the gesture. He started to jog towards her, concentrating on his footing and making it look realistic. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Jasper stumbled.

It looked as though his feet got tangled together by some fluke or random bout of clumsiness—Jasper had legitimately tripped enough times in his lifetime to know how to make it look convincing. He let out a cry as he tumbled to the ground, intentionally positioning his outstretched hands so that they didn't quite cushion his fall, and then he went careening to the left.

His head made an impressive sound when it collided with the metal pipe on the wall.

Things went blurry for a moment, but then Jasper groaned, and blinked hazily to see Maya sprinting towards him, her mouth open in shock.

"Jasper! Oh my—are you okay? You're bleeding!" She knelt beside him hastily, and gestured at his left temple—where Jasper could already feel the tell-tale stickiness of blood, as well as a throbbing pain. He propped himself up on one elbow, and smiled lopsidedly at her.

Another slight moan, and then he said, "Guess that didn't really work out how I'd planned – not the smooth greeting I was going for."

She giggled, despite the circumstances, and then her face flashed back to concern. Maya helped him to lean against the wall awkwardly, avoiding any contact that might contaminate her, and frowned slightly, "That's going to need stitches unfortunately, and this whole corridor will have to be decontaminated now."

Jasper himself to smile for a brief moment when Maya turned to call for assistance, and then sighed heavily before saying, "Guess it's off to the infirmary then."

.

_I just needed to write something to come after the end of Inclement Weather - it was tearing me apart. I'll probably post a second part tomorrow if you guys want to see more._

_Let me know what you thought, or your predictions for episode 3!_


	2. Chapter 2

Jasper allowed himself to be ushered into the infirmary, wincing as he held gauze up to the gash in his forehead.

His eyes immediately caught sight of the tubes of blood that snaked up to a pipe, but he showed no reaction. There was two other patients in the room, both either asleep or unconscious, and Jasper's gaze flickered briefly over the tubing going into their chests.

Lowering himself down onto one of the beds, he let another apology rush out of his mouth – trying to excuse his clumsiness, and come across as light-hearted as possible. Maya squeezed his shoulder gently, precautionary white gloves covering her hands and a yellow smock put on hastily over her clothes.

He lay back on the bed, and leant his head back under instruction, and tried not to shudder as a bright surgical light was shone directly onto his wound during the initial examination. It felt too similar to those endless days spent in isolation, or even like some days on the ARK.

Jasper wanted sunshine and fresh air again, he realised suddenly—and that was enough to firmly remind him of his reasons for being in the infirmary.

The injection of local anaesthetic stung, but was nothing like being speared in the chest, so he didn't even flinch—just lay there motionless, his hand being held by Maya. The sensation of having a needle pulled through his skin to suture his wound back together was uncomfortable, the room silent.

He remembered back to those few days after his spearing, after he'd been dying and was then on the slow road to recovery—when there'd always been someone around to talk quietly, and even then the noise of the hustle and bustle of the camp would waft up to the top level of the drop ship. This felt clinical and cold, in comparison, and Jasper could almost feel his heart tearing in two as he reflected on vitality and excitement of life in the 100 camp—against the secure, sedated lifestyle in Mount Weather.

"Just another moment, Jasper," the doctor whose name he hadn't bothered to remember said gently, and was brought back to the present.

He wondered who had told her his name—or had he said it earlier? He almost regretted nearly knocking himself out to achieve his goal, but he could handle a bit of confusion.

When it was all done, and there was a white rectangular piece of gauze secured to his forehead along with twelve new stitches, all Jasper could feel was calm. He thanked the doctor profusely, even though the words tasted bitter in his mouth, and then he went to spring to his feet.

As expected, he swayed violently, and would have went crashing to the ground had it not been for Maya reaching out quickly to steady to him. Only half of the dizziness was faked, the rest of genuine.

Jasper looked confused at his situation, and allowed his words to slur slightly, "Maybe I should sit down for a bit… just until I get my balance back."

The doctor and Maya agreed readily, as he knew they would, and it only took a few minutes to convince them that he would be fine by himself for a short time—though he knew the doctor wouldn't be gone long, as there were other patients to see to, and even Jasper was aware of the seriousness of leaving a patient with a head injury alone.

In the end it took two emergency pages to both of their radio devices to cement their decision.

Jasper allowed himself three minutes of lying quietly on his side when the room went quiet, counting the seconds down in his head, and then he sat up cautiously. This time, when he stood, his balance was slightly better—but he did stumble several times on his way to the corner.

The vent seemed starkly obvious at the end of the room beside the heavy metal door, and the pipes of blood looked ominous—Jasper could just imagine Clarke doing this alone, as he made his way towards the vent, a vision of Clarke's face scrunched up in a familiar frown flashing into his mind.

He rubbed against the bandage on his forehead for a moment, took note of the fact that he was potentially making a huge mistake, and then glanced around for any threats. All was quiet, and the two other patients still motionless.

He had to find out the truth for himself.

Jasper took a deep breath, and then wrenched the cover off the vent, and climbed inside.

.

Clarke and Miller were playing a game of chess in one of the common rooms that they had been allowed access to, when Monty came hurrying in.

The note from earlier, and the map they'd studied carefully, was stuffed down her shirt carefully—so as to avoid detection at all costs, and Clarke felt the paper rustle silently as she turned to look at Monty with thinly veiled concern in her eyes.

"What's up, Monty?" Her voice was calm and controlled, but there was an undercurrent of tension.

From the other side of the room, some of the other members of the 100 glanced up, but were quickly nudged back to their activities by the others. _Retain the semblance of normality for as long as possible_. Miller raised his eyebrows at the other delinquent from his seat opposite Clarke, a pawn in his hand.

"Jasper's been taken to the infirmary—" and didn't those words just strike a cold note into Clarke's heart, "he apparently fell and hit his head in the south east corridor. When he was running to meet Maya." Monty face was worried—but his eyes shone pure terror.

She forced herself not to respond too quickly, and instead covered her mouth in shock, "Is he okay? I guess it was only a matter of time until his clumsiness caught up with him though."

Inside, all the wheels were turning in Clarke's head, and it only took a moment for her to put the pieces together. Jasper's denial, his detachment from them after the news, and then the way he'd left abruptly with an odd expression on his face.

The kid had faked the accident.

A glance with Miller confirmed that he'd put the pieces together as well, and Monty's hand twitched by his side as he spoke again, "Maya was the one who told me—said he'd tripped over his own feet somehow. He's in the infirmary now, alone, to get some rest. Apparently he wasn't too steady on his feet when he tried to leave."

Clarke didn't know whether to feel annoyed that Jasper had intentionally injured himself and put himself in danger – or relieved that the old Jasper seemed to be finally coming back. _Of all the plans though…_

She settled for just shaking her head slowly, an exasperated and genuine smile on her face.

Monty dropped down into a chair beside her, and Clarke patted his shoulder while she turned her attention back to the game of chess. Miller waved away the other's concern with a nod over to them—and then proceeded to capture her last bishop.

"Jasper can take care of himself," He said gruffly, "In the meantime, we have a game to win."

They continued on then, feigning interest in the intricate game of chess—but really discussing strategies under the guise of chess moves, "_If you move to the left there, and go up three spaces, would you reach my king in time_?"

"_How long do you think it would take for game over_?"

"_Quickest time my knight could make it to the safe zone, behind the castle_?"

"_Realistically, how many pawns would be needed to take down a queen_?"

.

Later, Jasper returned to them.

He was pale and shaken, but alive and undiscovered it seemed, as Maya brought him back to their dorm room—one arm wrapped around his waist.

They crowded around him, hands reaching out to brush against him gently, and the scene looked like a tribal one, with the remainder of the 100 circling around Jasper. To Clarke's distaste, the outsider didn't leave, but instead continued to stay by Jasper's side as he made his way to sit down.

Clarke carefully reached out to inspect his bandage when he was still, and no one said anything as she peeled away the gauze to reveal neat stitches and a bruise already forming. Jasper looked up to her with those big eyes of his when she smoothed the edges down and replaced the surgical tape—saying nothing.

There was silence then, as Maya seemed content to remain where she was at Jasper's side, despite the uncomfortable atmosphere in the dormitory.

"How are you feeling now, Jasper?" Miller finally asked, his tone low but neutral, and Clarke shifted beside him, quietly impatient and trying to keep from glaring at Maya.

Jasper met Miller's gaze with a levelled one of his own – a hard glint in his eyes, visible even through the thin shine of tears, "More like myself than I have in a long time. I—I don't know who I was, with my, uh, clumsiness gone. But I guess… I was due a fall, to remember that this is our life now. And—and it feels like I fell _so hard_."

A few of the other kids nodded around them, and Clarke swallowed past the lump in her throat.

"He hit his head really badly," Maya said then, and it was almost funny—how disconnected she was from the actual conversation.

Monty ducked his head to hide his grin, in spite of everything, and Clarke nodded, continuing on as though Maya hadn't spoken up, "It's good to have our old Jasper back." She leaned forward to pull him into a hug, and let her lips pause beside his ear, "_But don't ever do anything like that again_."

When she pulled back, Jasper was smiling at her with a lopsided grin, "Pot, kettle," he said softly, and then touched her bandaged forearm lightly, "Snap."

Clarke ruffled his hair roughly at that, and a few laughs rose out of the others. It almost felt like normal for a split second, as normal as it could be with them trapped under a mountain, until Jasper seemed to realise something and paled even further.

"I feel like I'm gonna throw up though," he mumbled, and leaned away from Maya towards Monty who wrapped an arm around him immediately.

She had her hand on his forehead in an instant, and while he had a slight temperature, it was nothing to be too worried about. The others all seemed to move in closer at that, tensing up as though prepared to storm out of Mount Weather at that moment, and they only settled marginally when Clarke shook her head, "You seem okay, it's probably partly to do with your head injury," _and everything to do with the nightmare you just witnessed_.

Jasper nodded morosely, and slumped more heavily into Monty at that—who simply sighed and looked lost for words. They all did really, just standing in a circle with dozens of feet of concrete over their heads.

"We can handle it from here," One of the other girls told Maya bluntly out of the silence, and Clarke could hear a hint of her own harshness in the tone.

Another boy spoke up then, moving forward to help Monty lever Jasper to his feet, and over to his bunk, "Yeah, we'll see you tomorrow, Maya."

"Thanks for your help."

Maya stood up slowly, and looked over at Jasper, but he just closed his eyes wearily—and Clarke could practically feel his exhaustion, "I'll check him in three hours for concussion," She told Miller, who just nodded passively and began to walk behind Maya towards the door, effectively ushering her out.

Then they gathered in close together, sitting on the ground in between Jasper's bottom bunk and another bed, while Clarke retrieved her sketchbook. She kept her voice quiet as she spoke so as Jasper could doze, but aware of the fact that he was better able to rest with the low hum of background voices—something they'd discovered during his recovery period.

"Right, here's the plan."

.

_Let me know what you think – and if you want to see more._


	3. Chapter 3

Clarke woke up on the floor the next morning, with Monty and one of the other kids leaning against her shoulder, and Jasper's hand hanging down to brush the top of her head.

She swallowed a smile, and carefully began to extract herself from the tangle of limbs. Some of them had headed back to bed last night, but the majority of kids had just conked out where they had sat. The sketchbook rustled in her hands as she moved, and Clarke looked down to see a sketch of Bellamy, Finn, Raven, Monroe, and a few of the others that they were missing staring back up at her. She'd sketched it before falling asleep the previous night, and it only fuelled her desire to get free.

It also sent a sharp pang of loneliness into her heart though, when she thought of the people they were missing.

The roof above their heads seemed even thicker and more intimidating as Clarke tipped back her head to study it, and she stayed there for a few minutes, until her balance faltered and she swayed. A hand caught her elbow roughly, steadying her, and Clarke locked eyes with Miller as he stood beside her.

"I can't wait to get out," She whispered, and he just nodded, running his free hand though his short hair.

The bell rang then, the one that summoned them to breakfast each day, and then to lunch and dinner afterwards. Clarke hated the sound of that bell, chiming sweetly and reminding them all that they were trapped without sunlight or any way to tell the time.

Slowly, the others began to rouse and stretch out—they still hadn't mastered being punctual to any of the meals.

It made President Wallace's face pinch just a little each time they would tramp through the doors late, making a disturbance, and for that reason Clarke spent a few extra minutes loitering in the doorway of their dormitory.

Jasper stumbled past her, and stopped to let her inspect his stitches with a crooked smile, "Just tired, Clarke," he said to explain his lack of coordination, and she rolled her eyes at him and lightly pushed him on the back towards the rest of their friends.

"Don't do anything else clumsy, that's all I'm saying."

.

They were all mostly silent in the dining hall, sitting with their chairs tucked close to each other and eating mechanically.

Maya wandered over to say hello to Jasper, but he just shrugged apologetically when there were no chairs free—and no one willing to offer her one. She bent down though, and spoke softly to him, so that Clarke could barely hear the words but just see her lips moving beside his ear.

To his credit, Jasper acted normally, and even went as far as to awkwardly pull her into a one armed hug between the two stiff, unrelenting members of the 100 on either side of him. But when he turned back to the table after she was gone, his face was pale, and he bit his lip.

"How much?" He asked quietly, rubbing at his bandaged head wound with a frown, "How much, Clarke?" and she could hear the silent question there, _how much did Maya really knew about what was happening?_

Clarke shook her head at him, and forced herself to take another bite of food, even though it tasted like dirt in her mouth, "You need your strength," She simply said, and the girl beside Jasper silently handed him her bread roll without a word.

He took the offering of food, and stared at it sadly for a few long moments.

Jasper eventually slipped the food into his pocket, "Save it for later," He mumbled, "I've lost my appetite somehow."

They watched worriedly as he pushed out his chair and stood shakily, heading back towards their dormitory quietly. Monty jumped to his feet a few chairs down the table, and nodded at Clarke's worried face, "I'll keep an eye on him. Just let us know if…" _anything changes and we need to be ready to run_.

It had gotten so easy to read between the lines with the rest of the 100, that Clarke wondered why they even needed to speak at all.

The two disappeared out the door, and then it was just the rest of them. Clarke struggled to find something normal and mundane to say, to set the fake conversation going again—but Miller stepped in smoothly with a casual, "So all this art is great, isn't it?"

"Yeah, so relevant to the world today…" There was a hint of sarcasm in one of the kid's voices as he nodded enthusiastically, and Clarke ducked her head to hide a smile at the same time as she heard the soft thud of a foot kicking the guy in the shin.

Miller widened his eyes at her, and didn't look away as he carefully spirited an apple into his pocket—one of the shiny, fake red apples that Mount Weather suddenly had, despite the occupants not be able to stand an ounce of radiation. Clarke wasn't sure where the fruit was coming from, but it was food, and she got Miller's point immediately.

The conversation continued on about art for the remainder of breakfast, and by the time they were leaving the dining hall, Clarke's pockets were weighed down with discreet food.

_Rations_, for when they were fending for themselves again.

.

Jasper let out a loud and discontented sigh as he scuffed his shoes against the wall.

His best friend stood beside him, leaning against the cold bricks and scowling along with him, "How's the head this morning?" Monty finally settled on saying, his hands pressing firmly against the stone behind him, as if he could just concentrate hard enough and get them all out.

"You remember why we got caught on the ARK?" Jasper asked suddenly, completely ignoring the first question, his eyes brightening instantly as his mind headed down a completely different train of thought.

Monty nodded carefully, used to Jasper's quirks by then, and said with a wistful grin, "Some pretty sweet choice plants, yeah… how is that applicable exactly?"

His friend grabbed him by the shoulders, and swung Monty around to face him, "But how plants, Monty, _how_ plants?" Jasper was really making no sense, and Monty took a moment to process the words and the wild look on his face, but then it clicked. _How had they gotten the means to experiment with less than legal plants?_

"How plants, Jasper," He whispered back, feeling his cheeks stretch with a smile.

Twenty minutes later they were messing about with a bouncy ball that Jasper had found days before in the recreation room, chucking it roughly against the wall only for it to rebound back quickly. Their stance was casual and laid back, but their minds were razor sharp, and calculating.

The two friends waited it out for a while, until several groups of guards had gone past without incident, before Jasper moved.

He fumbled the ball purposefully with a cry of surprise, and gasped loudly as the rubber ball went bouncing against a guard's head, perfectly aimed yet accidental, "Oh, I'm so sorry!" He said hurriedly and loudly, rushing over to the man with the red mark in the middle of his temple, while Monty chased after the bouncing rubber ball as it seemed to hit off every surface possible, the other boy ducking and diving in between the guards nimbly.

It was mayhem.

Eventually, Jasper finished his stream of apologies and shook the man's hand vigorously, at the same time that Monty dived dramatically onto the floor to land squarely on the small ball with a shout of triumph, "Got it!"

They were sent swiftly on their way after that, ducking their heads sheepishly as they headed back towards their room, eyes cast down in mock shame. When the two reached an empty corridor they stole a glance at each other, but didn't say a word.

Only when they'd reached the dormitory and shut the door hastily behind them, did Monty allow himself to slip a hand into his pocket and feel the smooth access card that was tucked inside.

They locked eyes and grinned then, remembering days past on the clinical, white ARK and the same antics. Time didn't change some things though, and neither did any new environments. One thing was certain: that Clarke was going to be equal parts proud and exasperated.

Monty and Jasper were the perfect team, after all.

.

They knew, she realised after a moment of shaking her head, they knew how irritating but useful they were.

Clarke finally settled for just holding out her hand expectantly, and sighing softly as Monty slipped the key card into it discreetly. The others lounged on bunks above them, and someone kicked Jasper gently in the shoulder as an affectionate gesture.

"Have to move soon then," Miller said calmly, as he casually ran a hand over one of the bedside tables, feeling the sharp edges, "That'll make it a hell of a lot easier though."

She nodded once, narrowing her eyes in thought and running a finger over the worn plastic in her pocket, "We're not really going to be able to get any further at this stage. We have to just go with our best option, that we discussed during chess."

Monty feigned a yawn, and murmured, "To the east?"

Clarke blinked at him twice, let her face form a passive smile, "Better have an early night tonight, if you're already yawning now, Monty," and that's how they all knew_: it was happening that night._ They seemed to huddle even closer together in those few moments, without anyone really even moving, and a few of the kids took in deep breaths—as if practicing for when they would get to experience that glorious fresh air once again.

Across the room, Miller grinned, "Anyone up for a game of checkers then?"

.


	4. Chapter 4

They all got into bed that night with their shoes on, and pockets crammed with food.

Maya came around to say goodnight to Jasper—and the realisation that she had done this almost every night hit him quickly. _Was she spying on them, or just being a friend?_ Jasper groaned involuntary as he was forced to examine the situation, just as Maya pulled him into a hug.

She immediately withdrew, and concern shone through her eyes, "Did I hurt you? Are you okay?"

Jasper shook his head quickly, and then regretted it when sparks of pain and dizziness overcame him, "I—_woah_—no, I'm okay, Maya. Don't worry." His shaky tone was enough to cause Clarke to lock eyes with him from behind Maya, and he blinked rapidly at her for a moment or so.

A few of the others, who weren't feigning doziness looked over at him with worry in his eyes as well, and Jasper did his level best to dispel it with a confident grin.

Clarke marched over to him though, smooth fingers brushing against his forehead with a frown— and didn't _that_ just bring him back to his spearing days. He shuddered slightly at the memory, but came back to the present at the sound of her voice, "You don't have a fever or anything, and your stitches looked fine the last time I checked…"

"I'm okay, Clarke, I swear. Just got a bit dizzy from shaking my head. I'm up for this." The minute the words were out of his mouth, Jasper wanted to sink down to the ground and retract them furious. Behind Maya, Miller's eyes were glaring at him, and Jasper could only pray that she hadn't picked up on—

"What are you talking about?"

Jasper turned back to face Maya with a weak smile, "Oh, you know—our big snakes and ladders marathon tomorrow morning. Did I, eh, not tell you about that earlier?" Monty nodded furiously beside him, and slowly the other girl's face softened.

Maya grinned back, "You guys sure are into your board games."

"Quality entertainment," Miller's deadpan voice came from behind her, and Maya giggled for a moment until she saw that his face was blank, "Jasper needs to rest."

"Oh, of course yes. I'll catch you guys tomorrow then," Maya squeezed Jasper's hand tightly one last time, and he reciprocated the gesture, cringing inwardly due to her choice of words. He felt a sudden urge to hug her again, or do something even more impulsive because it was potentially the last that he would see of her. Jasper thought back to all the casual conversations and smiles across the dining hall, and the warm feeling in his chest when he would meet up with her between meals. But then he remembered the hanging bodies, swaying silently as the blood was drained out of them, and he wanted to throw up.

So he did nothing, just sat there practically motionless, and tried to pretend that he didn't feel anything as she pulled away.

Maya left quickly after that, and Jasper kept his eyes glued to the floor, sitting on his bed, in an attempt not to provoke Clarke's reaction. His stomach was churning with emotion, and he didn't know what to think or how to react. It felt like he'd just lost a friend, and maybe he had – but _who was Maya, really? Was she one of them, or just an innocent bystander?_

His inner turmoil must have shown on his face, because Jasper simply heard their leader sighing loudly, before she just bumped her hip against his shoulder, "Just get some sleep, Jasper. We've got time."

.

Clarke watched Jasper curl up in a ball on his bed, and exchanged a sombre look with Monty.

He'd gotten attached to the girl, fallen too hard and too fast, and it was easy to see that his loyalties were tearing him apart. Jasper never seemed to be able to do anything the simple way. But the steel was still present in Jasper's eyes, even if it had dulled slightly in Mount Weather, and Clarke knew that he'd still do anything to get out of this place.

She looked at him sadly for a moment longer, and then lay down on her own bed, mind racing.

She ran her fingers over the tight bandage on her own arm, and tried decided to take the stitches out herself when they escaped. The wound was healing well, and while there would always be a scar to remind her, it really was the best possible outcome. Clarke ignored the throbbing ache that radiated out from the deep cut, and tucked her forearm in close to her chest.

The hour passed agonisingly slowly, and Clarke tapped out each minute silently on the key card in her pocket. She needed to feel a fresh breeze on her face, and run through the forest until his lungs ached. This sedated lifestyle under tonnes of concrete felt like a slow death.

It only took a moment to slip silently out of bed, and the minute her feet hit the ground, the others were following.

Jasper needed to be touched lightly on the shoulder, but then he was awake and mostly alert, springing to his feet with more energy that Clarke had seen in days.

"Quick and silent," She reminded the others in a murmur, and several heads nodded back at her, "Don't be afraid to incapacitate anyone—but absolutely no noise." And then their guard at the door was making hand signals and they were moving.

The corridor was deserted, and they ran down it in complete silence, in pairs of two.

Clarke and Miller were leading, with the younger kids in the middle, and some of the others that they trusted at the back. She used the key card swiftly, and the small sounds of the door locks deactivating seemed to speed up her pulse even more.

They reached their destination quickly enough, and Miller only had to knock out one guard along the way—a bulky looking man who didn't see the chokehold coming. The look of surprise as 48 ex-delinquents ran past him was amusing really.

She took a moment to wonder whether they'll ever be ex-delinquents, or if that title will follow them for the rest of their lives. Just something else that the ARK had weighed them down with.

When they reached the security hatch, where the hazmat people enter and exit the mountain from, Clarke did a head count while Miller and another kid got suited up in two hazmat suits that were left hanging up in one of the storage closets. Everyone was present and accounted for, pressed up against the wall out of sight from the security cameras. They'd done a walk through earlier in the day, and discreetly noted the cameras' possible blind spots. Clarke just prayed they were right.

Jasper secured one of the helmets with shaking hands, but his grip was strong as he zipped up the back of the suit.

The two chosen ones strode confidently through to the control room, using the stolen swipe card, and then proceeded to make short work of the four people inside. Clarke was proud of the way they handle the situation, cold and seemingly removed from the violence as Miller slams one of the hazmat suits against the wall, and then promptly roundhouse kicked the other.

He opened the doors to the rest of them then, and Monty got to work operating the airlock and getting as many of them out as possible. Kids crammed into the chamber, and they all had to remind themselves that it wasn't the ARK—that freedom lay on the other side.

Clarke watched for a moment, and then was struck by a wild impulse.

She knew that it wasn't the logical thing to do, that she should stay and make sure her people get out safety—but she couldn't just leave Anya and the other Grounders trapped while they run free.

As she reached for the key card, Jasper met her eyes, and she knew that he was thinking the same. A quick signal to Miller relayed their mission, and with a nod from him, they were off at a run again. Jasper grabbed a spare guard baton that was propped up against the wall, and swung it like a baseball bat.

_Ready, aim, fire._

.

By the time they reached the infirmary, Clarke was breathing hard and she was certain that alarms were about to start sounding.

A shrill ringing noise erupted the minute that she wrenched open the door, and all she can do is hiss loudly through her teeth. Jasper swung the baton nervously, and brandished it threateningly at the patients in the beds, all of them out cold.

She ran over to the vent in the wall, climbing awkwardly inside and came crashing out into the other room within seconds. Jasper followed close afterwards, and spotted a lone scientist hovering fearfully by the east wall.

Clarke spared a moment to see Jasper laying into the guy with the baton, choked sobs slipping out of his mouth in between wheezed curses, and then heads straight for the row of cages.

She didn't look at the two bodies hanging lifelessly – _new_ faces, new Grounders—and instead dropped to her knees at Anya's cage. The other woman glared at her weakly, but there was no real malice in her eyes, and Clarke was too busy trying to tear the lock open to care.

A whistle made her look up, and Jasper tossed a set of keys over with one hand—that Clarke caught seamlessly and promptly used to open Anya's cage with a loud _clang_.

"We're getting out of here," She said breathlessly, already moved onto to another cage, "Feel free to follow our lead."

It took them precious minutes to get all the Grounders out of the barbaric cages, and mostly standing upright—and Clarke knew that they couldn't waste any more time. They'd already been detected, and it was surely just a matter of time before their luck ran out. She grabbed Jasper's free hand, that was trembling like a leaf, and started sprinting again, through the vent and straight into a room full of guards.

Weapons were loaded and pointed at them in seconds, and Clarke's heart sank like a weighted stone in the ocean.

The alarms were still shrieking loudly, and red flashing lights were tinting the room an ominous shade.

Jasper snarled uncharacteristically, and surged forward, taking Clarke by surprise as he swung the baton around like a lunatic. She immediately followed his lead, and began shoving guards back with her bare hands in desperation. They'd been in worse situations before and _– maybe if they could just make it to the door, then they would have a chance…_

Their saving grace was the Grounders.

Though they were weakened and injured, the small army of Grounders seemed to burst out of the vent all at once, streaming around past Clarke and Jasper to take their attackers. Clarke narrowly avoided a gunshot to the shoulder, saved only when a tall Grounder growled deeply and wrenched the gun out of the guard's hands. The man was knocked out instantly then by a headbutt to their forehead, and the Grounder simply moved onto his next target with a war cry as the man crumpled.

Even at their worst state, the Grounders were still a terrifying force of warriors.

"Air lock room," Clarke screamed above all the chaos, "Two floors up, service stairs to the left, and then straight ahead!"

She hoped that at least one of the Grounders had heard her directions, and then was forced to duck down low as a fist came flying towards her head. With her back hunched over and arms tightly protecting her head, Clarke forced her way through the melee to get to Jasper, and yanked him backwards from where he was locked in close combat with a guard.

The fight was on, and all Clarke wanted was to get back to her people.

.

_Doing my best to get this up quickly - but I'm in college full time and getting the time to write isn't easy. I'm also not able to watch the new weekly episode until Saturday or Sunday each week, so please don't include any spoilers or hints in your reviews!_

_I'll try to reply to reviews in the next few days while I write the next chapter – but just know that I absolutely love every one of your comments and the feedback is so motivating and helpful. Keep letting me know what you think of this story :)_

_Thanks for reading._


	5. Chapter 5

It took them too long to get back to the others.

Clarke was counting the seconds that passed too quickly, as they stumbled and dragged themselves up the stairs to the airlock room—alarms blaring and red lights flashing madly. Jasper was out in front, with the baton, and he just kept swinging it around like a lunatic – whether they encountered guards or not.

They could heard the sounds of pure chaos echoing behind them, wild screams and cries that just spurred them on faster.

Several Mount Weather guards appeared in their path, but the two just barrelled straight through them, either knocking them to the ground with the baton or simply hitting and punching until the people would slump down. They left a trail of semi-conscious bodies behind them, but the guards still didn't stop coming.

Clarke was pretty sure her fists were angry and swollen, covered in blood as they throbbed.

She didn't relax her tightly clenched fists at all though, not even for a second, and Jasper's grip was white around the baton handle. This was a fight for their survival, a desperate dash back to their people, and it didn't bear thinking about what would happen if they didn't make it in time.

Her breath was coming out in gasps, as she struggled past another group of three guards blocking their way, and Clarke released her frustration and worry in an anguished scream as she beat her way through them. Jasper wheezed beside her, baton catching a guard on the side of the temple—just as the stranger made a grab for Clarke's ripped shirt.

They were nearing the airlock room now, and Clarke couldn't see anyone inside from her position.

"_Miller_!" She screamed, forcing her legs to keep her upright for just a few minutes more, "_Miller_!"

Her greatest fear and most morbid hope was that no one would answer her, that they would be long gone by that stage, free and safe on the Ground. Clarke didn't want to be left behind, but if that was the cost of her people's freedom, then she would gladly pay it.

A familiar head popped out from behind the door though, and Clarke wanted to collapse right then.

Miller's cool, calm expression didn't even change as he let out a whistle, and charged out with several other members of the 100—all older and with some serious muscle gained from their time on the Ground. They met the small crew in the middle, with more guards still thundering behind them, and were engulfed by their friends.

Clarke could feel two strong pairs of hands grabbing her by the biceps, belonging to who she couldn't say, and let herself be ushered quickly towards the room with their exit. A glance to her right showed Jasper being dragged by another boy, his feet tripping over imaginary obstacles with exhaustion.

Miller took the rear, nimbly running backwards as he swung out at the remaining guards with a piece of broken pipe that looked _lethal _in his grasp.

When they made it inside, only one or two others were still inside—the rest presumably on the outside. Monty surged past them, and began disabling the mechanisms of the door, making it almost impossible to open from the outside.

Jasper wilted against one of the 100 as he clutched the baton to his chest, and was shoved inside the airlock chamber with the remainder of the younger kids in the room, held upright by the tightly packed bodies. They were the second last group to be released into the outside, and Clarke could only watch silently as she leaned against a cabinet wearily.

"Will it hold?" She gasped out eventually, nodding towards the destroyed door hinges and electronic locks.

Monty turned to face her, and she could practically see the adrenaline coursing through his system, "It won't take much for them to get through, just some brute force—but they won't be going anywhere without their suits," and he pointed proudly towards a huge pile of protective hazmat clothing that had been methodically ripped up with what looked like extreme enthusiasm.

She grinned back at him; despite the exhaustion and pain that was dulling her senses.

Then they all squeezed into the airlock chamber, the last group to go, and Miller intentionally placed himself between the tinted glass of the airlock chamber looking back into the room and the rest of them. Clarke didn't have the energy to stand directly beside him, and there was barely enough space to move as it was, so she settled for just leaning against his side, and staring out into the room that they were about to leave behind.

Just as the metal doors of the airlock closed around the glass ones, she saw the door being broken down completely, ripped through—and dozens of Grounders spilling into the room.

The doors shut then, and they all braced themselves for what awaited them on the other side.

.

The most noticeable difference about the tunnel that they emerged into was the lack of sound.

There was complete silence, and Clarke was momentarily disorientated by the comparison between the quiet and the wailing alarms of Mount Weather's facility. The rest of the 100 were crouched a small distance away, pressed against the right wall of the tunnel in anticipation.

They rose to their feet the second she stepped out of the chamber, and their flushed, sweaty faces looked so determined and harsh. Clarke wanted to spare a moment to be quietly proud, but there was no time.

"Move out."

It was in the direction of light that they headed, down one of the tunnel forks, and Clarke's body trembled but she pushed through it.

Some of them held hands as they raced around the corner and began on the upwards ramp that led to the _outside_ and their freedom. They seemed to run in perfect synchrony, feet hitting the ground in rhythmic, almost melodic thuds—and Clarke was sure that she wasn't the only one holding her breath in excitement.

Then they were _out_.

They burst into the sunshine and undergrowth with wide eyes and bright smiles on their exhausted faces. A few kids even fell to the ground, hands pressed desperately into the smooth grass, but they were quickly urged to their feet once again.

"Nobody stop!" Miller yelled out, his deep voice carrying easily across the group of 48, "Back to the Dropship!"

And so back to their camp was where they headed. The feeling was euphoric, Clarke felt, ecstatic, and it seemed as though their feet were only skimming over the twigs and branches. They were going home, back to the one place that they'd ever claimed as their own—_home_.

She breathed in a deep breath of sweet, sweet fresh air, and felt her energy stores replenish themselves almost instantly. She was running on empty though and eventually it would catch up to her, but for the moment Clarke let out a cry of happiness, and heard several of the others echo her, though she couldn't tell who had responded – caught up in the blur of sprinting.

There was a thought in her mind to turn and see if the Grounders had followed them out, see if they too had survived—but everything was moving too fast, and Clarke could only focus on the sensation of real earth beneath her feet and her people moving as one around her.

This was freedom.

.

Eventually they had to slow, and the group came to a weary stop beside one of the streams.

Kids all but collapsed into the small river, dropping to their knees and almost submerging their faces fully in the refreshing water. Clarke crouched down on the stream's stony bank with Miller standing beside her, and bent forward so that her head was between her knees, hands braced against the ground for a few moments.

Her head was still spinning when she moved it back up, but she seemed better than Jasper at least—who was throwing up in a nearby bush, while his friend hovered anxiously a few feet away.

"You okay?"

Clarke nodded slowly; do as not to exacerbate the nausea, and met Miller's eyes, "Yeah, I will be. Just need to get everyone back to camp safely first." He grunted in response, and then whistled shrilly to call the others to attention.

They all gathered around, faces streaked with water from the stream and some kids with damp hair—and even Jasper weakly stopped retching to stare blankly at her.

She rose to her feet, every inch of her body throbbing with aches and pain, but still managing to stand tall, "We have to get back to the Dropship by nightfall, otherwise we don't stand much of a chance. There, we have shelter over our heads, and whatever remnants of supplies that we can salvage. I know everyone is tired," _and didn't that just sound like the understatement of the year_, "but we can get there if we work together. We just have to push a little bit harder, for a little bit longer, before we can rest and start rebuilding ourselves."

Miller shifted his stance beside her, and added onto her speech, "I need navigators and trackers at the front, whoever worked on hunts with me—we can't afford to waste any time veering off in the wrong direction." He gestured out to their right, the east, and said stoically, "Our camp is that way. We have our freedom, now all we need to do it secure it."

A cry of agreement went up amongst the 48 ragged members that remained, and Clarke nodded in agreement.

"We are the 100," She yelled, and several fists were pumped into the air in enthusiasm, "_We are the 100_!"

.


	6. Chapter 6

It took them hours, but they finally made it back.

Clarke felt like she was about to collapse with exhaustion by time their landmarks started showing up. She was trudging through the forest in front with Miller, and if they both leaned against each other for a few seconds every once in a while, well, she wasn't going to complain.

The rest of the 48 were close behind them, filling the crisp air with yawns, moans, and sighs. No one complained aloud though, just kept pushing on through the pain and weariness – and for that Clarke was proud, and it kept her putting on foot in front of the other.

She paused for a moment when they passed the art supply bunker, to lean against a tree and do a quick headcount. They couldn't afford to lose anyone, not now.

The kids mostly just shuffled past her, looking like they were practically dead on their feet already, but some of them held thin fists out for a fist bump that she reciprocated with a smile – and one or two of the 48 patted her weakly on the shoulder as they went by.

Jasper and Monty were at the back of the group, and while Monty looked ragged and run down—his best friend looked like he was barely managing to stand on his own two feet. Jasper was leaning heavily against Monty, and Clarke moved forward quickly to relieve the other boy of his burden for a few moments, carefully shifting Jasper's weight over to her.

Clarke struggled for a moment, and then got into the rhythm of walking with Jasper's weight added, his long arm draped over her shoulder. The guard's baton from Mount Weather was still clutched tightly in his other hand. He let out a groan, and turned his head slightly to rest it on her shoulder, despite their height difference.

"I miss her already, Clarke," Jasper slurred into her hair, and she just huffed out a breath, not knowing what to say, "I mean, I know she was probably _bad_ and in on the whole Grounder thing the whole time, but—but it was really cool before we found out, and I just miss her now. I don't even want to, but I can't stop."

Monty fell into step beside them again then, and he shared a glance with Clarke, "I know, Jasper, I know. We've talked about this already, remember? We can talk about it back at camp—we just have to get there in one piece first."

The other boy sighed loudly, and seemed to sink to the ground even as he continued walking; forcing Clarke to lock her knees in order to keep supporting him.

One of the older guys behind them noticed her struggle, and jogged forward tiredly to help them support Jasper. He grinned wearily at Clarke, and she gratefully let him take over 'Jasper-duty' with a nod, before she forced herself back to the front of the line.

"Status?" She asked Miller breathlessly when she reached him again, and he grunted once before replying.

"Couple of k's out. One of the trackers out ahead found a rabbit caught in an old trap. Should be fine to eat. Have kids picking up dried branches if they're able—not many have the strength though." Clarke nodded in response, feeling another wave of exhaustion wash over her.

She overcame the slight dizziness by pausing and bending down for a moment to pick up some twigs to the side of their trail, stiff small branches that looked like they would burn well. It seemed as though years had gone by since their last campfire.

Clarke almost smiled at the memory of camp dinners, but instead glanced up at the treetops and frowned when she caught a glimpse of the sky, "It'll be dark soon. We've been walking for hours."

"We'll make it," and didn't Miller just sound so cool and collected, not a hint of worry in his voice, "We always make it."

"I suppose we've gotten this far." She conceded, smirking marginally in spite of their situation, and bumping her hip against Miller. He simply looked down at her with a cocky expression that she knew he'd well earned through all his hardships.

"We're the 100."

.

Their camp was blackened and burned when they finally did return.

Dawn was just about to break through the dark sky, and many of the kids had huddled together for warmth during their trek. Clarke shivered against Miller and another girl, wishing she had her old clothes back—and not the flimsy Mount Weather attire.

They all crept silently through the twisted mess of burnt bodies, holding hands tightly, and Clarke tried to block out the sounds of some of the younger kids crying. There was nothing that they could do in that moment, except continue on to their Dropship, their last hope.

She made a note to put the older ones on clean-up duty first thing.

The interior of the Dropship was just as cold and harsh as Clarke had feared it might be. Blood was smeared on the floor, long dried, from where Raven had been slumped—and Clarke forcefully averted her eyes and struggled to maintain her composure.

"Everyone to the top floor for tonight," She managed to say after a few fleeting moments of grief, "We can sort things out down here in the morning, but for now—We've all earned a rest."

Her words were met with by a few half-hearted cheers, but the majority of kids did smile at her as they hauled their slight forms up the ladder. Clarke watched them go up, one by one, and did another headcount. Forty eight, including her, only _forty eight_.

A hand landing lightly on her shoulder forced her to look up, and Miller just sighed heavily.

He jerked his head gently over at the doors, and Clarke swallowed hard—seeing some ash blow in the breeze outside. "Close it," She said after another long minute, and he obliged with a sad quirk of his lips. The door came up with a _clang_, and then they were safely shut inside.

"Time for bed," Miller said dryly, as he climbed up the ladder, and Clarke nodded quietly to his back.

The other kids had arranged themselves in the equivalent of a puppy pile by the time they got up, and they could only grin in real amusement as they took in the scene. Clarke caught Monty's gaze, from where he was curled up beside Jasper, and she took Miller's hand to begin navigating through the mess of kids.

The sounds of heavy breathing and soft snoring had already filled the upper level by the time they made it across the floor, and Clarke didn't think that she'd ever been so happy to collapse down onto a cold metal floor. She squeezed Monty's hand that he offered to help her sit down, and then laid her head flat against what could have been Harper's back, Miller and Monty flanking her on either side.

And as she fell asleep quickly, Clarke knew that this would turn out to be one of her best memories.

.

The next morning was subdued, but triumphant.

They had another meeting when everyone was awake, and quickly but carefully went through each order of business that needed to be attended to. Their supplies were painfully limited, that much was obvious, but Clarke forced herself to remain optimistic.

Branches from the previous night were piled in the corner, along with the two knives that had been found in the upper level, and some blankets.

A group of the older members of the 48, Clarke and Miller included, ventured outside to try and clear the debris from the battle. It was a tough job, sweeping away the destruction they had caused with large branches and leaves—but it had to be done.

They cleared what they could into one of the corners behind the Dropship, out of immediate sight, and Clarke stopped for a moment to survey the progress. She wiped a shaking hand across her forehead as her eyes took in the cleared ground and the collapsed makeshift sheds that they'd managed to build.

"It looks good," Monty commented, a sheen of sweat visible on his face.

Clarke shook her head slightly, "It's not good yet, but it looks better at least," She amended, crossing her arms out of habit, "We can make it good again."

"If anyone can, it's you, Clarke," A different voice commented, and she spun around having heard the smile in the tone. Jasper was waking carefully out of the Dropship, nodding his head at the clear ground and the distinct lack of bodies overall.

She grinned back at him, glad to see him recovered from his previous state the night before, and he pulled her into a hug before she could resist.

A few of the kids helping to rebuild their fire-pit laughed loudly as Jasper spun her around like a dancer, despite Clarke's cry of surprise, and she punched him in the shoulder roughly when he finally released her. Jasper immediately gave a deep bow to their chuckling audience, and even Clarke had to smile then.

"You're an idiot," she told him firmly, and then frowned at the filthy state of the bandage on his forehead, "and we need to get that cleaned up, and take the stitches out probably."

Miller chose that moment to return with some water from the river and kindling, and Clarke just rolled her eyes at him when he raised his eyebrows in amusement, "Nice dancing," He mutter as she moved towards him to take the water, and she just groaned.

Clarke waited until they had a camp fire going again before she fetched the sharpest knife that she had left, and some cloth rags that they'd washed in the river water earlier. She had a small audience of kids gathered around by the time she waved Jasper over, and her words were quiet but firm as she talked Miller through her actions.

The light was bright and ideal as Jasper tilted his head back obligingly, and only bit his lip as Clarke cleaned the dirt away from his stitches. She then started to carefully work on the pieces of surgical thread with the knife edge, before using her other 'sterilised' hand to pick out the bloody stitches.

To his credit, Jasper only let out a few stifled gasps throughout the whole procedure, and he even managed to wink at her when she was finished. Clarke wrapped the still-healing wound up as best as she could, and then turned to Miller with a half-hearted smile, holding out the knife to be washed again.

"Your turn."

She winced and gritted her teeth as the knife slipped and cut into her skin a few times, and shook her head as apologies and curses slipped out of Miller's mouth. A few droplets of blood welled up and fell to the ground below Clarke's outstretched arm, and she thought back to being alone in the Mount Weather dormitory – slicing her wound open again with the sharpened edge of a bunk bed. A shudder wracked her frame, and one of the kids beside her stretched out her arm to squeeze her shoulder gently.

Then more of them were reached out to do the same, and suddenly Clarke found herself surrounded by her family—all of them with their hands covering her shoulders and uninjured arm.

A smile broke over her face, and it was just what she needed to banish the memory and focus back on the present. Miller locked eyes with her just as he removed the last stitch, and she watched as some tension drained out of his shoulders as he put down the knife.

They went back to the clean-up after Clarke's forearm was bandaged, and the day passed on with substantial progress and improvement through hard labour.

Though the camp was quiet and silently suffering after their ordeal—there was another emotion present in the air. It was subdued, dampened by the long hours spent re-establishing a viable perimeter and draining their already low energy stores, but it was palpable.

_Triumph_.

They'd fought their way out of captivity, hiked through an unforgiving terrain for hours to get back home, and now they'd made it. They had won, survived against all odds as they had done time after time again—and Clarke was going to make damn sure that they lived to fight another day.

.

_I know this took ages to come - but my exams are finished, and the madness of Christmas is over so I'll be updating this much more regularly again. _

_Hope you all enjoyed this chapter._


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